


to love what is lovely and will not last

by XtaticPearl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mission Fic, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-09-25 07:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20373115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtaticPearl/pseuds/XtaticPearl
Summary: When Iron Man crashed, there were a few versions of what truly happened. All of them include Steve Rogers, the husband of the man who had fallen.





	to love what is lovely and will not last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cachette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cachette/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Snow was falling [Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670383) by [Cachette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cachette/pseuds/Cachette). 

> The title is from Snow Geese by Mary Oliver. A snippet of the poem is at the end of this fic.

_Start from the beginning_.

"It was a routine move," Rhodey was tired, bone-deep fatigue with a throbbing ache blooming between his eyes, "We'd practised it before and everything went according to plan."

He had heard the sound first, a whip-crack of thunder hitting an unbreachable wall of magic. The resonance of the aftermath had been a silent ripple of still fear, and Rhodey had turned to see Thor first. In all the years he had known the man, he had exuded all the traits they had read about gods, but in that instant - in one flash of terrifying realization, Rhodey had seen something human. Thor had been staring straight at the target he had sent his power towards and Rhodey didn't have to look to know what had happened. 

He'd later label that familiarity as fear. 

It was the last thing on their minds when they had left home for the mission. The anniversary planning had been circulating in confusing whispers and Clint had perfected the art of riling Tony up to new heights of extreme ideas while the latter's husband pretended to ignore the madness. 

Steve had never been too good at ignoring Tony though. That had been the last thing Rhodey would notice in the aftermath. 

_What went wrong_ _?_

"It was a trick by Amora," Natasha flicked her gaze down to the tabletop for a second before meeting her question head-on, knowing well what weakness or hesitance could be mistaken for, "It was a simple miscalculation."

There had been nothing simple about watching a coffin fall through the sky. Natasha had felt the awareness of disaster first, before catching sight of it. It was in her DNA, the instinct of knowing when a life-changing moment occurred and where to hide if it came for her. She was good at running, at finding shelter from storms. 

She had stood rooted to the spot when she had seen Iron Man come hurtling towards the ground, chest burned black, as the snow kept falling around him. She had always been thrown off balance by them, hadn't she? The few men who had managed to make her want to stay. Want to grow roots. Want to see them branch out. 

She hadn't turned to look at Steve and later she would regret that second of cowardice. She had watched over him when he had gone out on his first date with Tony, straightening his coat lapels before sending her favourite boys off to start something new. She had watched over him when he had first realized that he _loved_ Tony, pouring him half of her own coffee and quietly slipping into the shadows when Tony invariably came down to find him. She had watched over him as they had gotten married, eyes sharp beneath the tears as her boys had promised what they had always done.

She had not watched Steve when his world came crashing down though. That had been the first thing she had thought off when the blood was cleaned off her hands. 

_What do we do to fix things now?_

"Nothing," Maria didn't tap her fingers, didn't clench her jaw, didn't let the mess show. She was the last one standing in a room, the last pin to fall, and she was good at her job. She'd never had doubts about it. 

She _had_ doubted the consequence of it when they had wheeled in a shell of a man she had last seen soaring. It had been snowing down a carpet of trouble outside and there were agents cleaning up the aftermath of the battle, but Maria had felt doubt for the singular person who hadn't opened his eyes to see it all. 

And then she had felt it worse for the man who had calmly powered his way into the room without an ounce of emotion showing on his face. 

When the WSC had come calling for explanations, she had stood up first, neatly coming in between them and Rogers. It wasn't because she doubted the Captain's ability to defend himself or his team. It was probably because she doubted if he would spare them any mercy. Steve had a reputation for being calm and collected but he also had a lesser-known temper that came up when his husband was concerned. 

She had witnessed it once before, when the media flaying had exceeded a line and it had been - a mess. The only reason that had been contained was the man who had been lying on a bed now. 

Maria hadn't seen the disaster happening this time but she knew that she wasn't willing to see the fallout of it just yet. That had been the only thing on her mind when she had taken charge as Steve had stayed back for once. 

_What did you see?_

Steve had a recurring dream among the nightmares that plagued his waking sleep ever since he had made home in the hospital. He was laughing, in the unasked dream, grinning and carefree in warm clothes of red. There was a mulberry tree beside him, black droplets of its fruit strewn on the ground, and nobody was picking them up. He didn't care, in that moment, he let them fall and was happy. And then someone would call for him, someone from above, a garbled voice with unintelligible words. He'd ignore it once, twice, and then look up, because he hadn't imagined someone calling for him from anywhere beyond his sight's reach. He'd look up and it was always the same.

Amid the flecks of white, there was a golden star falling, suspended in dying gravity and achingly beautiful to Steve's weary eyes. It was burning, reaching down for him to catch, like he could hold it in his palms and extinguish its flames. Like he could stop it from dying out. 

He loved that star and would reach out a hand. It would never meet him. 

The dream was his only reason for sleep now and Steve tried, every single time, to bring the star closer. To blink the snow out of his eyes and focus, keep his eyes trained on what he needed to catch. He tried to have safe hands for it rest. 

It was the seventh day now. 

"S-ve"

He was dreaming again and the star was here, so close, so near. All he had to do was let it fall onto him, let himself break its fall. He would do anything to stop it from being what he had become once to the ocean. 

"St-e"

One more push, one last arm's length and he could save the star. He had to save it, unlike what had happened to him when he had fallen, a long time ago. He needed this star to shine again. 

"Steve"

He blinked his eyes open and the dream broke, right before the star could burn him up. 

"Tony?"

Sometimes reality was far better. 

**Author's Note:**

> 'and, being the color of snow, catching the sun  
so they were, in part at least, golden. I  
held my breath  
as we do  
sometimes  
to stop time  
when something wonderful  
has touched us'  
\- Snow Geese, Mary Oliver


End file.
